


O, Handsome Knight!

by AndreaLyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Knight Before Christmas AU, M/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21838588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AndreaLyn/pseuds/AndreaLyn
Summary: Michael's romantic history is dappled with romances that have been goodenough, but when he hits a man with his car (one who's insistent on his being a knight), he begins to learn that maybe he doesn't have to settle for that.TheKnight Before ChristmasAU that my brain demanded.
Relationships: Maria DeLuca/Isabel Evans, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes, Noah Bracken/Michael Guerin
Comments: 26
Kudos: 90





	O, Handsome Knight!

**Author's Note:**

> [This blessed/cursed image](https://djchika.tumblr.com/post/188991642022) has been haunting me since it was posted and then when I finished all my holiday ficlets, my brain decided, "hey, it's okay, go on, write it".
> 
> So I did. It doesn't really follow the actual movie plot, but I'd like to think I sampled pieces and inserted my own little conflicts where I might. Please. Enjoy this fluff.

This is not the start to the holiday season that Michael wanted.  
  
“Noah,” Michael says as he reaches down to grab his phone, desperately trying to shove it back into the holder. “Hang on, would you just…” He’s swerving on the dark road as he tries to get the phone back in place. He’d gone to the tree farm to pick up the wreaths for Isobel and Maria, but then Noah had called to bitch at him for not being around for dinner.  
  
It’s dark, it’s snowing, and he has papers to grade so he doesn’t get behind on his calculus class’ work.  
  
“Michael, you said we’d go out for dinner.”  
  
“No,” Michael counters, gritting his teeth as he fumbles to get his high beams on once the streetlights vanish. “I asked you if you wanted to get lunch with me tomorrow, you said you had a big case, so we hung up and didn’t agree on anything.”  
  
“Well, I’m at your house!”  
  
“And I’m not, clearly!” Michael snaps. “Look, I’m driving back from the tree farm, I’m not going to be back for at least another hour or more if this snow keeps getting worse, so you should go home, Noah, and just…”  
  
_Forget me. Forget us. _  
  
Why couldn’t Michael break it off? Cowardice, really. He knows that Noah’s not a great boyfriend – given that he’s his sister’s ex-boyfriend from years ago should’ve been the first red flag – but he’s a successful lawyer and he’s handsome and most of the time he’s attentive. Michael’s romantic luck has been so bad over the years that he’s willing to accept it, because it might not be a fairy tale romance, but at least Noah’s not the worst person in the world.  
  
He sighs. “Noah, I’ll come around tomorrow, okay? We’ll get dinner,” he says, softening a little.  
  
“I’ll leave you a bottle of something for when you get back.” Noah sounds somewhat chastened too. They’re both forgiven, but it’s not like things are all better.  
  
“I love you,” Michael says, hoping that maybe this’ll be the time that Noah says it back.  
  
The _click_ of the phone line means that Michael’s not going to get lucky this time.  
  
Michael squeezes the steering wheel with both hands, trying to get himself less tense, even though he knows it’s probably a lost cause. He disconnects his phone, but when he does, he fumbles with it and it falls under his seat. Slowing down, he ducks his head down to find it, fingers frantically searching as the car rolls along, at a slow creep. He finally grabs it, letting out a victorious sound, but when he throws it onto the passenger seat, he glances up in time to see the flash of his headlights against something incredibly shiny.  
  
Michael squints, tries to place what the hell could be standing in the middle of the road looking so shiny, and then…  
  
_Thud_.  
  
“Oh, shit,” Michael breathes out in a panic, eyes widening in alarm when he realizes that he just _hit someone_ with his car. “Fuck. Fuck!” What the hell does he do? What are you supposed to do when you hit someone? He hits the brake and parks the car, stumbling out and leaving the door open.  
  
The car beeps at him for the open door and Michael ducks back to grab his keys, holding them in his hand and gripping tight as an outlet for his panic. He doesn’t see any blood, so maybe it had been some piece of siding or something else.  
  
When he hears a human groan from the ditch, all of those hopes fly out the window.  
  
Then again, whoever it is, they’re _alive_.  
  
“Are you okay?” Michael asks tentatively, squinting through the large snowflakes to try and get a better look at the man. He digs out his phone and turns on the light, shining it in the person’s direction (and having it reflected right back in his eyes by that shiny thing).  
  
If anything, that’s made it worse. Because, if Michael were to describe what he’s looking at, he’d say that it’s a man dressed up like he’s on his way to a joust. He’s wearing a metal chest-plate, a cape, a hood, boots and breeches. Michael stares down at him, shining the flashlight right in his face – his incredibly handsome face – gaping at him.  
  
“What were you doing in the middle of the road?” he demands, his panic turning to the kind of worry that he wants to use as a weapon. “I could have killed you!” He crouches over to help the man to his feet, startling when his hand is so warm within his, like he hasn’t been out in this chill for very long at all.  
  
He’s breathless, speechless, and Michael is fairly sure that he’s also senseless.  
  
“What are you doing out here?” he tries again, when he finds his voice. There shouldn’t be a man in the middle of the road, let alone a stupidly handsome one and in the most ridiculous clothes that Michael has ever seen. He keeps his footing on the progressively icy road, and only remembers to pry his hands away from his. “Who are you?”  
  
The man lets his gaze slide over Michael and then steps back to perform a sweeping bow.  
  
“I am Sir Alexander,” he introduces himself, with a proper sounding voice, though he doesn’t have an accent, necessarily. “And I assure you, I am unharmed. It would take far more than that to damage a knight of my caliber.”  
  
Michael blinks at him, wondering if he had a drink before he’d gotten in the car.  
  
“…what the fuck.”  
  
Alexander squints at him. “You can call me Alex?” is his offering in response to Michael’s mental breakdown.  
  
That doesn’t help.  
  
“You’re not even wearing a coat!” Michael says, alarmed at what’s happening here. “I must have hit you on your head,” he rambles, the chaos in his mind sliding in and taking over in his heightened emotional state. “I can’t leave you out here like this, you should come back with me and I’ll take a better look at you at the house.”  
  
“I assure you, I am well-equipped for all manner of disaster.” Alex reaches out to take both of Michael’s hands in his, making him startle. “Such a handsome lord shouldn’t worry so much about me.”  
  
Michael’s mouth feels dry. Is it dry out here? What’s happening to him?  
  
“You definitely hit your head,” he decides. “Come on, I’m taking you home with me,” he insists.  
  
“Certainly. Where is your steed?”  
  
Michael glances back to the car that Noah had made him buy to replace his old Chevy, gesturing to the SUV with a wary little flick of his hand, because he’s not entirely sure how _steedy_ it is, but it does the trick. “Come on,” he reiterates and heads back to the car, watching over his shoulder as Alex joins him, staring at the machine with awe. “It’s just an SUV.”  
  
“It’s unlike anything we have in my time,” Alex marvels, letting his fingers slide over the white trim (Noah’s pick, because of course he wouldn’t even let Michael have something fun). “You must be very well off.”  
  
“Yup,” is Michael’s sarcastic reply. “That’s the first thing they always say about high school teachers. So well off.”  
  
“Well, your education at such an altitude has paid off,” Alex says, as Michael helps him into the passenger seat, leaning over to buckle him up (and trying not to think about the way his breath is so warm on Michael’s neck and how he smells of balsam and fir, like he’s been in the woods).  
  
It’s so stupid and so endearing.  
  
Michael definitely hit him in the head with his car and maybe somewhere along the line, he hit his own head to be entertaining any part of this as _charming_.  
  
He feels freaked out and chaotic, reaching for his phone so he can text a warning that he’s not coming home alone. He doesn’t appreciate the eggplant emojis that Isobel sends, so he doesn’t bother sending the picture he’d taken, because his stupid sister doesn’t deserve that after she’s implying that Michael would cheat on his boyfriend.  
  
He wouldn’t.  
  
Not even if the man in his passenger seat is _gorgeous_.  
  
On the drive home, Alex fiddles with the radio the whole time, to the point that Michael ends up smacking his hand to get him to stop before all his pre-sets stop working, but once they get back to the quaint little neighborhood he lives in, Alex turns to the window, eyes wide and bright as he stares out the window at all the houses with their Christmas lights up. Michael intentionally slows down so that Alex can see it all, wondering how badly he must have hit his head to forget all of this.  
  
Once they’re at the house, Michael collects Alex and helps him out of the car, wondering if he’s using it as an excuse to slide his fingers over those strong biceps, but honestly, who cares if he is? When Alex gets his memory back, he’ll turn out to be a douchebag whose name is Chad or something and Michael’s fantasy will be dispelled.  
  
He grabs his laptop bag and slings it over his shoulder, then loads up his arms with the wreaths he'd been sent to get before heading inside, but any hope of sneaking Alex in is dashed instantly when he sees Isobel and Maria in the front hallway.  
  
“Michael,” Isobel says when he gently pushes the man inside the door. “Who is this?”  
  
“He says his name is Alexander,” Michael says, hustling him inside while dumping the wreaths into Maria’s arms. “He says his name is _Sir_ Alexander,” he adds wryly, given the metal plating that he’s wearing over his chest. He can see the way Isobel and Maria are exchanging appreciative glances, which has to stop. “Look,” he hisses, as Alex starts wandering into the house, eyes wide with wonder. “I hit him with my car and I think he’s got some kind of partial amnesia. He says he’s a medieval knight.”  
  
“I bet you he’s got a sword I’d like to polish,” Maria says with a smirk.  
  
“Honey,” Isobel chastises her wife. “Obviously, I’d have to help.”  
  
Michael doesn’t have the patience to deal with this. He’s already frazzled from his mini “fight” with Noah and then he’d hit someone with his car. The last thing he needs is his sister and his sister-in-law driving him this kind of crazy.  
  
“You two aren’t funny. He’s clearly some ren-faire type who idiotically was wandering around at night,” he hisses, his eyes tracking Alex’s movements. He has to duck after him when Alex digs out the crème brulée torch. “No, nah, nope, we’re not burning down the house tonight. You just go sit in the other room and we’ll…” He gestures vaguely with his hand, shorthand for _we’ll figure out what to do with you_.  
  
Alex puts it down, staring at it with wonder, but he does as Michael says.  
  
Once Michael leans forward and makes sure he’s not going to overhear anything, he turns to the women to speak freely. “I don’t know what to do. I definitely hit him with my car and he’s clearly having some kind of episode.”  
  
“Maybe he’s homeless,” Maria suggests gently. “He could be in need.”  
  
“How many homeless people do you know that own chest plates?” Michael deadpans, flexing his fingers as he stares at Alex through the little window to their living room, watching as he leans down to pick up some of Isobel’s Cosmos, eyes widening as he flips to the sex tips page. “I’ll check if he’s got any bumps on his head, and then, I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the trauma of the accident. We can let him stay here with us, right?”  
  
Isobel and Maria exchange one of their wordless looks that has Michael scowling, because he always hates being left out when they do that.  
  
“He can stay,” Isobel finally relents. “And you need to get to sleep,” she says, grabbing Michael by the shoulders. “We’ll look after your hot knight in shining armor.”  
  
Michael lets out a protesting noise, though he’s not sure what part it’s about.  
  
“He’s not mine,” is the one that gets vocalized.  
  
Still, he’s pretty sure that he’s not mentally equipped to deal with this, so he does as he’s been instructed. Before he heads to bed, he stops to poke his head into the living room, letting himself take a moment to watch how Alex reverently slides his hand over every item they own.  
  
“Hey, so I’m gonna go to bed, but Isobel and Maria will take care of you,” he speaks, when he finally finds his voice. “Maria’s pretty good at the home medicine, so she’ll give you a look and when you get your memory back, we’ll…” Drop you off. Take you home. Dash Michael’s fantasies about hot knights and remind him that he has a boyfriend. “Well, we’ll make sure we take care of you until then.”  
  
Alex is swiftly on his feet before Michael can protest, taking both of Michael’s hands into his.  
  
He squeezes with the gentlest amount of pressure, locking eyes with Michael. In that one moment, it’s possibly the most romantic that anyone has ever been with him, which is less impressive on Alex’s part and more pathetic on Michael’s. His breath catches as Alex slides his thumb over the back of Michael’s palm, lifting his hand to press the softest of kisses there.  
  
“Thank you for your hospitality,” he murmurs, like he doesn’t even care that he’s sent Michael’s heart careening wildly. He’s a fucking menace, that’s what he is.  
  
Michael opens his mouth to say ‘you’re welcome’, but he gets stuck staring at his lips. Instead of words, tiny little sounds come out, and he yanks his hands out of Alex’s, which makes the man look worried and clearly upset that he’s done something wrong.  
  
“Thanks, have a good night, don’t burn our house down, sorry!” It’s like his brain is throwing in every possible thing he can say. It’s really lucky that he didn’t blurt out that he loves him, so Michael is taking that as some kind of win.  
  
As he flees, he sees Isobel’s completely unimpressed look, but he doesn’t blame her.  
  
Michael _is _being a complete disaster right now, and he shouldn’t be. He has a boyfriend, he reminds himself as he gets ready for bed. Albeit it’s a shitty one that he’s been trying to dump for weeks, but they’re still together.  
  
Yet, that night, the only man he thinks about is Alex. What are the chances that when Alex gets his memory back, he’ll be just as charming and hopeful and sweet? It seems like an impossibility (especially given Michael’s luck), but as he curls up with his thick, cozy comforter, he lets himself have this fantasy because he feels like he deserves that much.  
  
There’s already movement in the house the next morning when Michael awakens from odd dreams about snow and dancing reindeers and forests and a knight dashing through them with a sword.   
  
Michael stifles his yawn as he turns over in bed, listening to the bustle downstairs as Isobel and Maria cook brunch while Christmas carols play in the background. He’d moved in with them for budget reasons, because being a high school teacher when you’re paying off a PhD salary doesn’t really make sense, but now that he’s been here a few years, he’s not sure he could fathom leaving.  
  
Besides, they’ve got plenty of room in the two-story house, enough that they were able to give Alex a room of his own last night.  
  
With his mind on the other man, Michael trudges to his feet and grabs his hoodie. He slides his feet into a pair of slippers, sleepily collecting clothes that he thinks would fit Alex. With the bundle piled chin-high, he heads into the hallway to deliver it to him.  
  
“Michael!” Alex greets him cheerfully, ducking his head out from the bathroom. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”  
  
Water droplets are cascading down Alex’s neck from where he’s peeking out and Michael stops and stares, gaping at the shirtless physique. Then, Alex pushes the door open a little more, stepping out and Michael fucking drops all the clothes in his hands. He also thinks he forgets the English language.  
  
“I…what…you…mpf,” is clearly evidence of that.  
  
It’s not his fault. Alex is standing there with a washcloth covering his private parts with one hand, the other slicking back through his hair to try and keep it in place. “I couldn’t find any suitable towels in your bathroom.” He’s shaking his head, wondrous. “Inside your own home, so near to your bedroom!”  
  
Michael’s jaw has dropped and he’s staring at the way the water sluices down Alex’s chest, drawing Michael’s attention to the six-pack he has. Whatever head trauma that Alex is suffering means he must have forgotten one hell of a gym routine, because he’s sculpted in the most gorgeous ways, and Michael can’t stop staring at the cut of his hips.  
  
“I brought you clothes,” he says as he bends to hurriedly pick them up, trying not to notice where that puts his eye level. The way he rushes those words, it’s more _Ibroughtyouclothes_ and Michael hurriedly starts shoving them into Alex’s hands, even if it makes the little towel waver. Michael steadfastly keeps his eyes _up_ and on Alex’s beautiful warm eyes instead of the other warm parts of his body.  
  
Alex takes them into his hands, brushing his thumb back and forth over the soft flannel pants. “You’re very kind,” he says.  
  
_And you’re very hot_, Michael thinks, but doesn’t say.  
  
“Come down for breakfast when you’re ready,” he manages instead, which is actually polite and almost normal.  
  
As soon as he piles the last socks, hoodie, and jeans into Alex’s hand, he bolts for the stairs, grabbing the banister like he can physically haul himself down the stairs, away from all the temptation that upstairs holds. Last night, he never would’ve imagined meeting anyone in the middle of the night on a lonely forest road that could make him feel anything _remotely_ like this, and now it’s like all of Michael’s wet dreams have come to life.  
  
When he slumps into his chair at the breakfast table, he can feel Maria and Isobel staring at him, on the cusp of laughter. “Don’t,” he warns.  
  
“I was only going to say that I think Alex was polishing his sword this morning in the shower,” Isobel says, most unhelpfully. “You wanted to help with that, didn’t you?”  
  
“I’m dating someone,” he protests heatedly. “You both know that.”  
  
“We know that you’re dating an asshole that you won’t dump,” Maria replies bluntly. “And that last night, you brought home a sweet man who’s extremely hot, and yes, he’s dressed as a knight, but there are worse things that a man could do.” She butters her toast and puts a piece of it on Michael’s plate. “I couldn’t find any bumps, so if he does have some kind of amnesia, it’s probably from the shock. I’d say give it a day or two, it’ll wear off.”  
  
“Cool,” he says aggressively. “Then he can stay until then.”  
  
Isobel and Maria both raise their brows at him, but Michael bows his head over the plate to start digging into his pancakes.  
  
He's glad that they’re able to be a kind household and give Alex a place to stay over the next few days. Is it going to wreak havoc on his libido? Uh, fuck, yeah, it absolutely will, but what’s a few days in the grand scheme of things?  
  
Besides, his libido deserves a little bit of a treat and for his own selfish sake, he hopes that this morning’s little show outside the shower isn’t a one-time display.  
  
*  
  
Michael and Noah’s make-up date gets pushed twice more, because Michael keeps pushing it off. He tells himself that it’s Alex’s fault, but the truth is that even if Michael hadn’t hit a confused man in the middle of the road, he’d probably have tried to delay the date as much as he could.  
  
It’s not working out, but he also has no idea how to end things. After all, what if he’s ending the best thing he’ll ever have?  
  
It’s strange to think of it like that. It’s not like he’s ever come home from a date with Noah and thought that it’s the best thing he’s ever experienced in his life, but it’s still better than nothing. Noah’s kind (enough), he’s smart (enough), and he’s…well, he’s enough.  
  
For Michael, he’s enough, and Michael’s a man who’s come to grips with the fact that maybe he doesn’t deserve any better than just good enough.  
  
They end up going to dinner at Noah’s favorite Italian place in town, which has been decked out for the holidays. It’s a decent enough dinner, even though Noah complains about the temperature of his pasta and sends it back. Michael’s pretty sure that the kitchen is understaffed and just trying their best, but Noah doesn’t want to hear excuses -- he’d shrugged and pointed out that they’re paying for it, so they should get their money’s worth.  
  
He's not wrong, but it still leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.  
  
The restaurant is only a few blocks away from Michael’s place, so after Noah’s paid for the both of them (with a squeeze to Michael’s hand and a kiss to the inside of his wrist that feels strangely perfunctory and not at all like when Alex had kissed his knuckles), they head outside to walk back. It’s snowing, gentle and slowly, and Michael can’t help thinking about the night he’d hit Alex.  
  
Is it odd that he hasn’t told Noah about him?  
  
No. It’s not. He tells himself that it’s perfectly normal. Alex will get his memory back and then he'll go back to wherever it is he’s from. Michael doesn’t have a future with him, so why should be bother telling Noah about him?  
  
“I’ve missed you,” Noah murmurs when they’re at the front door.  
  
Michael feels guilty, suddenly, for putting this off. If Noah missed him, then maybe it’s not as bad as he’d thought. He opens his mouth to apologize, but then Noah walks Michael back until his back hits the front door with a heavy _thud_, almost painful, and Michael understands suddenly what “missed” means.  
  
Noah’s missed fooling around and fucking him.  
  
Still, is it awful if Michael’s willing to endure it? Alex has put him through the wringer when it comes to desire with the way he doesn’t wear a shirt around the house in the morning and Michael’s too-big jeans slip on his hips just enough to show the dimples of his ass. It’s become a lesson in withstanding torture and Michael’s not that strong.  
  
He ignores the pain throbbing through his hand and lets Noah tangle his fingers into Michael’s curls to tug him into a heated kiss, though he doesn’t shut his eyes and melt into it, staying on guard and aware. It’s how he sees the curtains fall shut in the front window before suddenly the front door is being opened behind him, sending him stumbling back into strong arms. “What the fuck?” he snaps, ready to turn around and shout at Isobel or Maria for interrupting him.  
  
Only, it’s neither of them.  
  
It’s Alex, brandishing an empty roll of wrapping paper like a sword, shoving Michael behind him and threatening Noah with _cardboard_.  
  
“Get your hands off him! I won’t let you defile him.”  
  
Noah laughs, loudly, staring at Michael. “Is this supposed to be a joke?” he demands. “It’s not funny, Michael. Who the hell is this guy?”  
  
“He was all over you,” Alex tells Michael. “He was going to hurt you.”  
  
Michael’s cheeks are flush with heat, and he’s so embarrassed that he’s not sure that he can speak. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Isobel and Maria creeping around the corner. Maria’s got a bow in her hair and Isobel has little pieces of cut tape over her arm. Add in the cardboard tube and all evidence points towards Alex helping out with the gift wrapping. They’re clearly drawn in by whatever chaos is happening, and Michael realizes that he’s going to have to explain to Alex that Noah hadn’t been attacking him at all.  
  
“He was kissing me,” he tells Alex, staring at him like he’s trying to figure out if he’s genuinely confused about what’s going on.  
  
“I saw him press you against the door,” Alex argues and Michael stares at him, wondering just how long he’d been watching. “You hit it hard, your face was in pain.” He’s not letting this up, and Michael feels a strange wash of emotion over him. Alex isn’t wrong. Noah had been so occupied with getting what he wanted that he hadn’t stopped to think about Michael. “I’ll defend your honor,” he says aggressively to Michael. “Just say the word.”  
  
“Oh my god, what the fuck is going on here?” Noah mutters from behind him. “Michael was having a good time! Right, Michael?”  
  
He says nothing, because he’s not sure he can.  
  
It’s been so long since anyone put Michael first like this and instead of reassuring everyone that he’s okay, he’s stuck staring at Alex like he’s seen him for the first time. No one’s ever come to his defense like this, especially not with an old wrapping paper tube. He steps forward and pries the tube from Alex’s hands, not sure that he trusts himself to speak.  
  
“Noah,” he says, without looking at him, because he’s not sure he can stop staring at Alex. “Thanks for the dinner, but I’m tired.” He finally glances back, seeing the apoplectic look on Noah’s face, but not caring.  
  
“Michael…”  
  
“Leave,” he says sharply.  
  
Noah throws up his hands in frustration, but he storms off down the sidewalk, bitching about Alex with every step. If there’s anyone’s honor who needs defending tonight, it’s Alex’s, given the way Noah is trying to rake his character over the coals. When Noah’s out of sight, Isobel and Maria creep back to the kitchen and leave Michael with Alex. Michael grins at him, unable to help himself, and uses the tube to give Alex the gentlest of bops on the head. “What were you thinking?”  
  
“That he was hurting you,” Alex says, and he’s not playing around or teasing the way Michael is. “I saw your face. When he kept pushing in without giving you a moment’s respite, I thought that he was going to hurt you.”  
  
Michael feels the way his breath catches in his chest, which makes it stutter on its way out. “So it wasn’t that it was two men?” he hears himself asking, knowing _why_ he’s so worried about Alex’s reaction to two men together, but also not ready to vocalize it aloud. “You don’t care that I was making out with a man?”  
  
“I care that he’s not a good enough man for you.” Alex reaches out to take the tube back into his hands. “Where I come from, two men can still love one another. My brothers support that of me, just as your sister does for you.”  
  
Michael stares at him, realizing a beat late that Alex has just come out to him. He’s gay. Or maybe he’s bi, but the only thing that matters is that Michael has a shot. He catches himself before he can let that thought grow, wondering what the fuck is going on in his head. Alex is suffering under a delusion of knighthood and as soon as he gets his memory back, he’ll be gone.  
  
It doesn’t matter what he feels or who Alex chooses to love and be with (only, Michael’s aching heart says that it does matter, it matters so much).  
  
“Don’t let him hurt you,” Alex says quietly. “Or else, I will defend you and with something far sharper than this,” he says, with a little wobble of the cardboard.  
  
Michael watches Alex return to the kitchen and join Isobel and Maria again, unable to help that sparking feeling in his chest. For the first time in his life, he’s beginning to wonder if maybe he doesn’t have to settle for _enough_. _  
  
_*  
  
The next few days become an exercise in torture for Michael.  
  
He keeps awkwardly bumping into Alex in the hallway and not knowing what to say. That’s the highlight. Eventually, Michael gets to the point where he starts lurking and spying through windows and doors to see if Alex is walking around, so that Michael can avoid an awkward encounter with him. He’s doing a great job of it, right up until Isobel makes it so he can’t avoid him.  
  
“It’s time for the tree,” Isobel says, sitting on the corner of his bed when he wakes up. He rubs his eyes and pulls himself from sleep, glancing to the other side of the empty bed. He’d dreamt of Alex there with him, curled up in his arms, and it’s left him with a sleepy, peaceful feeling even though he’s awake and cold and alone – because no, Isobel doesn’t count. _  
  
_“I’m really not in the mood,” Michael mutters, turning over in bed to bury his face in the pillow there, belatedly wondering why he’s not dreaming of Noah in his arms.  
  
He knows why. It’s just hard to admit it.  
  
“That’s nice, but it’s time for a tree,” she repeats.  
  
Michael groans, flopping over to give her the best pathetic little brother pleading puppy-dog eyes he’s got. He wants to curl up in bed and avoid Alex and not think about the dreams he’s been having about him. He wants to pretend it doesn’t sting that Noah hasn’t texted him in days, even to ask if he wants to go out again.  
  
“Fine,” he grumbles. “Are you getting the car ready?”  
  
“Maria and I have the cookie exchange,” Isobel says and ruffles his curls. “You’re taking Alex.”  
  
Then she gets up and leaves, like she knows if she moves fast enough, Michael won’t be able to argue. He still manages to open his mouth and let out a squawk of protest, because that’s not <i>fair</i>. She doesn’t get to do that to him, especially not when Alex comes around the door next and gives him a shyly excited look.  
  
“We have our own traditions with a tree where I come from,” he says. “I’m honored that your sister is letting me be a part of yours.” He heads into the room and pulls the blanket away from Michael as he lets out more of a protest (it’s early and he’s just had some very intimate dreams), but Alex tugs at his hand to pull him up, even as Michael wriggles back. “Quickly, let’s away before all the best options are gone!”  
  
Michael flops back in bed, and clearly takes too long, because Alex starts to physically pelt him with sweaters and jeans.  
  
Sputtering, he grabs them in hand and glares at Alex, who’s staring at him with a playful smirk from the doorway. “Hurry,” he reiterates, and heads downstairs.  
  
Michael grips the clothes and debates leaving Alex waiting in the car like an overgrown puppy, but that would be cruel. Besides, after the other night with Noah, Michael wants to spend his time with Alex but has been avoiding that (his subconscious is practically screaming it at him that of course he does, but he’s ignoring it because he’s still dating Noah, so nothing can happen).  
  
He dresses in his warmest clothes and joins Alex on the porch, shaking his head as Alex picks up the axe.  
  
“I’m surprised Isobel is giving up her chance to take out her anger with the axe,” Michael admits. “It’s usually her tradition.”  
  
“She was very adamant that I come with you,” Alex admits, opening the trunk to put the axe in there before he joins in the passenger seat. “I deferred, of course. I don’t want to intrude on your traditions, but she wouldn’t hear no for an answer.”  
  
“I bet she wouldn’t,” Michael scoffs, but he resigns himself to his fate – and besides, how can he be upset when spending time with Alex is as amazing as it is, when he’s not thinking about the consequences of wanting to be with someone else. Apparently, he needed the reminder of Alex’s brilliance, because within moments of the drive, he’s fully at ease.  
  
They talk about inane things, never going too deep (because Michael doesn’t want to encourage any of Alex’s delusions), and Michael shares how this is a tradition that happens every year.  
  
“We go to the tree farm and Isobel puts all her frustration into the axe chopping, then I have to tie the thing to the roof of the car,” he shares as they park. “I bitch about it a lot, but it’s one of my favorite things that we do.” He digs into the back seat and finds a Santa hat, putting it on his curls with a mischievous grin before jumping out of the car.  
  
It’s almost a complete one-eighty from when they’d left the house.  
  
Now Michael’s the excited one, because the moment they pulled into the tree lot, _years_ of memories flooded him and the warmth of the nostalgia is exactly what he needs. “Come on!” he encourages, as he pays the man at the front for the tree, slipping his gloves on to get his hands warm. If they were still back in New Mexico, they wouldn’t get to do this, but ever since they’d moved East, it’s become a Christmas tradition they indulge in every year.  
  
Every year, Max sends his photos of his sad plastic tree sitting on top of the kitchen table, but Michael knows that even Max had loved this tradition when he’d come to visit and spend Christmas with them.  
  
“What about this one?” Alex suggests, when they’re a few minutes into the woods.  
  
Michael glances at it briefly, shaking his head. “Nah,” he says, because something about the trunk looks too thin and spindly. He turns down the next few trees for different reasons – some of them are too sparse, some too bushy, and one of them looks like it’s got a nest of squirrels inside. He keeps pushing them further out to where the forest grows thicker, looking for the _perfect_ tree. He’s built something up in his mind as to what he’s looking for. It will be exactly what he wants, and he’s not ready to compromise.  
  
(He can almost hear Maria mocking him, asking if the tree isn’t a metaphor for something)_  
  
_Alex has been strangely quiet since they’ve arrived, to the point that even though he’s only known him for about a week, Michael thinks it’s really uncharacteristic. Finally, after denying the fourth tree Alex suggests, he stops walking. Michael doesn’t realize it for a few moments, but then turns to find Alex stopped, snow up to the ankles of his borrowed boots.  
  
“I find it very strange that you can be so picky about a tree, but not about your love life,” he says.  
  
Michael’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. His instinct is to demand to know why Alex thinks that, but he keeps thinking about how Alex had rushed to his rescue with a mock-sword because the image of Noah pressing him back against an alley wall had looked more like an attack to him than romance.  
  
He shrugs, trying not to think about how depressing the answer to this is.  
  
“I’m a high school teacher,” he admits. “And I’ve had so many failed relationships, I ran out of fingers to count them on. You know I used to date Maria?”  
  
Alex gives him a puzzled look. “Your sister’s wife?”  
  
Michael snorts when he hears it like that. “Yeah, we went on a few dates and I brought her to my place to meet Isobel, and…well, the rest is history. They’re all like that, though. I’m too busy with the kids to have time to meet anyone and the ones I do meet, they’re only okay. Noah’s the best of a long line of duds,” he confesses bluntly. “And I don’t know that I’m ever going to be able to do better. It’s not like there are prince charmings waiting around every corner to sweep me off my feet.”  
  
As he says it, his mind provides a mental image of Alex leaning over him to kiss him awake, which is something that Michael can’t think about and look at him, so he turns to keep perusing the trees.  
  
It feels like they’re never going to find anything and they’ll end up wandering the forest forever, with Alex carrying an axe over his shoulder in an intensely satisfying way (Michael’s beginning to think he has some kinks he hasn’t come to terms with), and then, they cross into a clearing and he sees it.  
  
It’s beautiful. It’s lush and hearty and maybe a little oddly shaped, but it’s perfect.  
  
“Oh,” he exhales, and he’s hit with the thought that if he can find his perfect tree in the midst of ones that aren’t right for him, then maybe he can do that with a relationship, too. “That one,” he gets out, trying to work past the epiphany that’s wreaking havoc on him, staring at Alex as he recognizes that the same feeling he had when he’d seen the tree had been the _same_ he’d felt that morning when he saw Alex.  
  
It's like he’s right, like he fits Michael perfectly, and like he never wants to look away from him.  
  
“You’re sure?”  
  
Michael knows that he’s talking about the tree, but his gaze is fixed on Alex. “I think so,” he admits, even though he knows there’s a mental block in his mind that’s preventing him from specifically saying, _this one_ about Alex. _You’re the one I want to be with, mental injury and all_.  
  
To do that would mean he needs to take a leap and end things with Noah.  
  
Can he really do that?  
  
Alex doesn’t really know who he is and Michael would be risking the safe thing that he has in order to do it. He feels somewhat ill as he stares at Alex, knowing that he wants him, but doesn’t trust himself enough to ask for him. Or maybe it’s that Michael is a coward because it doesn’t matter what century Alex thinks he’s from – dumping Noah to go for him would be a definitive decision and a risk.  
  
He watches Alex strip off his large coat to give himself full range of motion as he wields the axe. Captivated by the way his muscles shift under the shirt, Michael swallows back the nerves he feels and wonders how long he’s going to be able to deny this man.  
  
With one last definitive strike of the axe, the tree falls and Alex leans down to right it, hair flopping over his sweaty forehead. He pushes his hand through his hair to fix it, proudly displaying the tree to Michael.  
  
“What do you think?”  
  
“It’s perfect,” Michael ekes out, not sure if he’s talking about the man or the tree anymore.  
  
*  
  
There’s an incessant beeping noise coming from somewhere near him.  
  
Michael doesn’t remember setting an alarm. In fact, he doesn’t remember going to sleep, so why would his alarm be going off like that and hurting his aching head so badly?  
  
Michael blinks awake to overly bright lights in his eyes and a piercing headache. “Oowwww, _fuck_,” he bemoans. He rubs at the back of his head, feeling a giant bump there, and when he shifts in the bed, he sees Isobel and Maria sitting at his bedside in what looks like a _hospital_. “What happened?” he asks, mouth feeling full of cotton.  
  
“You were breaking up a fight at school,” Isobel says, reaching for his hand. “One of the kids knocked you back and you smacked your head on the concrete and were knocked unconscious.”  
  
“Little shit better be suspended,” Michael mumbles.  
  
“I tried for expelled,” Maria confides as she leans in. “Suspension was the next best thing.”  
  
He hurts like hell. Michael can’t help reaching back to probe at the bump, even if Maria smacks at his wrist to get him to stop. “How long have I been here?” It feels like it takes a long time to get out those words, seeing as he’s not feeling entirely together. Glancing up to the IV, he suspects there’s something in there to help him deal with the pain, which would explain why his words keep blurring together.  
  
“Only a few hours, but they want to keep you overnight and to take you in for some exams,” Isobel says, rubbing his hand as she rests it on her palm.  
  
Michael slumps back into the bed. “Hours?” he echoes, glancing around. “I…” He doesn’t know how to ask this, because the hurt on his face is probably doing a good job of letting Isobel and Maria know what’s wrong. “You two were the only ones who came, huh?”  
  
Noah’s not here. He doesn’t have to say it, but it’s not hard to guess that Noah probably isn’t hiding around the corner.  
  
What really hurts is that it doesn’t look like anyone else has come to see him.  
  
Isobel and Maria exchange a look that has Michael stymied (though, that could be the head injury), but before he can ask, Maria says, “Alex is waiting outside. The moment he heard you were injured, he refused to let us leave the house without him.”  
  
Michael’s heart swells with affection. Noah might be ghosting him, but Alex is here.  
  
“Michael, you need to break up with Noah,” Isobel tells him bluntly. “I know that you think you need someone and that it’s better to be with someone mediocre instead of being alone, but you’ve been in the hospital for hours and he isn’t here. He hasn’t even called.” Michael opens his mouth to ask how she knows, but then sees his phone in her hands.  
  
It hurts so badly for her to say that to him, because he’s been trying to get around to it, but he keeps running into the same issue. “I can’t dump Noah for Alex,” he gets out. “He thinks he’s a knight from the 14th century.”  
  
Isobel gives Michael’s hand a firm squeeze. “Then dump him for yourself,” is her advice. “You’re better than him.” She gets to her feet. “I’m going to go and get Alex. And Michael?” She lingers at the door, casting her judging glance back on him. “You could do a lot worse than someone who thinks they’re from a few centuries ago. Alex!” she calls. “He’s ready to see you now!”  
  
There’s something immensely satisfying about the rush of squeaky shoes on hospital flooring that tells Michael that Alex is practically running to come check on him. Maybe it’s the drugs, but he swears his face flushes at the first sight of him.   
  
Michael gives Alex a dopey smile when he walks into the room, Isobel and Maria leaving to give them some privacy. “I guess we’re a matching set now,” he jokes, but when he laughs, his head hurts and he lets out a pitiful sound. Alex looks nervous and unsure, but he reaches for the cup of water and holds it out for him. “Thanks,” Michael replies, glancing to his IV bag and moving the dial up to give himself some more drugs.  
  
“I don’t understand,” Alex says, puzzled as he sits beside the bed, reaching out to clasp Michael’s hand in both of his.  
  
“You know,” he says, feeling awkward as he gestures to his head. “I got a head injury too, now. At least I didn’t start thinking I was your medieval princess or anything,” he quips.  
  
“Michael, I am a knight. I am Sir Alexander Manes,” he tells him. “Please don’t move like that,” he insists, when Michael tries to shift a little more. “You were badly injured. You wouldn’t wake and I couldn’t bear to sit here and look at you in such pain,” he confesses, face wracked with sadness. “I worried so deeply for you, Michael.”  
  
Michael feels like he’s going to cry, the lump in his chest and his throat thick as anything. “No one’s ever cared about me that much before.”  
  
“Isobel and Maria do,” Alex says fiercely. “They love you as you deserve to be cherished.”  
  
Michael lets out a sob of laughter. “My sister and her wife,” he says, shaking his head even though it makes him hurt. It’s enough that Alex reaches out to cup his cheek firmly, preventing him from moving. “Never anyone that I was dating. No girlfriend or boyfriend, outside of Maria who wound up my sister-in-law, none of them would ever worry so much.”  
  
Alex brushes the rough pad of his thumb against Michael’s cheek, his other fingers holding him in place. With the combination of that touch and the drugs, Michael’s dazed, staring at him with a half-open mouth, wondering how he’s managed to find his perfect tree.  
  
Or man, as it were.  
  
“I care deeply for you, Michael,” Alex whispers. “I worry over you.”  
  
Michael stares at him, wondering if he’s stupid to fall for someone who thinks that he’s a knight, but the truth is that he doesn’t know that he cares anymore. Let Alex think that he’s a caveman, he’s still a good and decent man who worries about him and cares.  
  
“My head hurts,” he blurts out, in the stead of anything dignified or even remotely in the realm of what he should say, but given that he’s on drugs, it might be a good idea to avoid any romantic declarations.  
  
Alex smiles fondly at him, stroking his fingers through his curls. “You’ve had a terrible smack in the head. I’ll go and find Isobel, see if she can unearth information as to when they’ll release you.”  
  
It's the last thing Michael wants. What he actually wants is for Alex to slide into the hospital bed with him and curl up beside him. He wants Alex to wrap his arms around him as tightly as he can, then for him to stay. He just wants him to stay and to simply _be_ with Michael.  
  
It's as simple as that.  
  
Yet, he’s gone before Michael can put that in words, replaced by Isobel. It’s disappointing, but at least it steels his resolve about what it is he needs to do.  
  
“Phone, please,” it’s his first request as soon as Isobel is in the room. She raises her brow, but doesn’t question it as she hands Michael his phone. She must have a feeling about what Michael’s about to do, because the smug turn of her lips upwards looks like she’s been waiting ages for this (and she probably has; Isobel had dated him first, she knows what Noah’s like).  
  
Maybe Michael should feel bad that he’s dumping Noah with a text, but the man didn’t even come to the hospital to see him, and a supposed time-traveling knight did. The drugs are making everything hazy and warm, but even with that, he can’t find any positive sentiment towards Noah, seeing as there’s only so much he can tolerate.  
  
Ghosting him when he’s been injured? It’s not something that deserves any positivity.  
  
_it's over between us. pick up your stuff, then don’t want to see you_  
  
Minutes later, there’s a text reply from Noah, which means he’s clearly available and around. He just didn’t want to come and see Michael.  
  
**fine. I didn’t want to see you anyway. don’t bring your weird new bf where I can see the both of you**  
  
He lets the phone slip to the bed beside him as he turns his cheek onto the pillow to stare at Isobel. He’s floating high on the drugs, but also on the newfound freedom he’s gained himself in the last few minutes. For a man that’s just broken up with his boyfriend, he knows that he’s smiling an awful lot.  
  
“It’s over?” she asks, squeezing his hand.  
  
“It is,” Michael agrees, heart pounding in his ears. “I think I’m finally ready to want more than just good enough.” He thinks of Alex hovering in the hallway nearby, he thinks of his hand on his cheek, and Michael knows it’s the drugs talking, but he wants to know if Alex has marked him with his touch – if maybe Michael has been claimed by him in some way.  
  
He doesn’t realize he’s said that out loud until he sees the way Isobel is hiding her laugh with her hand. She leans in to kiss his cheek, laughing warmly. “Go to sleep, my idiot brother,” she says. “Lucky for you, you’ve got a knight in comfortable flannel waiting for you when you wake up.”  
  
Michael grins stupidly, besotted and dumb, and says, “Damn right I do,” before he drifts off to sleep. Despite the ache in his head, the one in his heart has finally lessened and it’s managed to make him feel like he’s _flying_.  
  
And no, it’s not just the drugs talking.  
  
(Except, maybe they’re _really_ good drugs)  
  
*  
  
The doctors have warned Michael that it will take some time for him to readjust. His headaches will persist and he might have sensitivity to light and there’s a chance he’ll be prone to confusion. He’d accepted the warnings before heading home, but when he gets back to his bedroom, he finds Alex sitting on his bed wearing all the items he’d worn when Michael had first hit him with his car.  
  
He and Noah have been over for less than three days, so it’s not like he’d been in a rush to start anything new, but at the same time, he doesn’t like the fact that Alex is back in these old clothes. In fact, he’d thought they’d thrown them out, so he’s not sure where he found them.  
  
“Michael,” he says, on his feet in a clinking, clattering mess. “I’m glad that you’re here. Are you feeling well?” he asks, approaching and looking into his eyes. “Have the physicians told you that you’re fine to be up and about?”  
  
“They said I’d be dizzy and a little nauseous,” he admits, but he’s pretty sure the sinking feeling in his stomach has nothing to do with his head injury. “Alex, what’s going on?” Why is he standing there looking so upset, in those old clothes, and why is it that Michael has the feeling nothing good is going to happen.  
  
“Michael,” Alex breathes out his name, and it’s tinged with apology. “I came to say goodbye to you.”  
  
The confusion is a symptom of the concussion, he knows, but what Alex is saying doesn’t make any sense. He shakes his head until he remembers that doing that hurts, staring at Alex with a pained look on his face. “No,” he protests, his voice small. “Alex,” he pleads. “I don’t want you to go.”  
  
“I must,” Alex says apologetically. “This isn’t my time and I found my way here through a strange portal, which means I gave my family no warning before I arrived. My relationship with my father is very terse, but I do love my brothers. I need to go back to them, at least to see them again and to say goodbye.”  
  
Michael inhales shakily, trying to apply logic to what Alex is telling him.  
  
Alex isn’t saying that he’s going forever, only that he’s going to say goodbye to them. If anything, it should be a promising thing for him to hear, but the problem is twofold. First, if he genuinely believes that Alex can travel through time, then there are larger issues going on. And second, Michael understands enough to know that there’s no predicting that time works the same way on both ends.  
  
What if Alex goes home and by the time he comes back, fifty years have passed?  
  
“I don’t want you to go,” Michael begs a little harder, sliding his hands down the metal plate, trying to find fabric to clasp to. “We never even had a _chance_,” he spits out, his anger clouding his grief. “It took me so long to see what was right in front of my face and now you’re leaving me?”  
  
Alex tips his head to the side, pleading with Michael with a gaze alone.  
  
“Please let me say goodbye to my brothers,” Alex says quietly. “You’d want the chance to say goodbye to Isobel and Maria, wouldn’t you?”  
  
There’s also an unspoken admission that neither of them are saying. Alex hasn’t asked Michael to go with him, back to wherever it is that he came from, and Michael knows it’s because of that. He’d never leave his sister alone here, even though he knows she’s capable of taking care of herself.  
  
He won’t go, and all Alex is asking for is a chance to say a proper goodbye to his brothers because he’s not the kind of man who’d force Michael to choose between a man and his family. He’s a good man – maybe even the _best_ one that Michael’s ever met.  
  
It still leaves them in this terrible situation, with Michael hating to give up his ground, but knowing that he has to. If he keeps fighting, he runs the risk of Alex deciding that Michael might not be worth all the trouble and that he’d rather stay back wherever it is that he came from.  
  
Alex seems to sense that the fight has bled out of Michael, so he asks, “Will you drive me back out to where you found me?”  
  
Michael wants to tell him that he won’t, that he refuses, but it’s absolutely a million times worse to imagine Alex leaving without Michael being the one to see him off and say his final goodbyes to him. Even though he’s not supposed to be driving, he needs to do this. It’s why he nods his head, feeling a numbness invade his limbs as he begins to prepare himself for what’s about to happen.  
  
It's like every other terrible relationship he’s ever had.  
  
Michael’s so unlucky in love that even a knight from the past is leaving him, even if it’s not permanent. There’s so much that can go wrong once Alex leaves him, which is why Michael needs to take advantage of every moment with Alex. “Yeah,” he gets out, his voice hoarse. “Get your stuff and I’ll meet you out at the car.”  
  
When he heads into the hallway, he sees Maria and Isobel spying on them, ducking out of the way just as Michael storms towards the door for his coat and keys. At least when he gets home, he anticipates a bottle of whiskey will be set out and waiting for him.  
  
It's a small relief, but not the one he wants.  
  
(The one he wants is currently climbing into the passenger seat so that Michael can drive him back to a portal that will take him back to a whole other life)  
  
It’s a silent drive out for the first few moments as they had towards the highway that he’d first found Alex, mainly because Michael doesn’t trust himself to speak. If he opens his mouth, there’s every chance he’s going to start begging Alex to stay again, and he knows that would be pushing his luck. He calms himself down and forces something a little more acceptable.  
  
“What’s your home like?” he asks, as he pipes the heat in the car, wanting Alex to be plenty warm before he goes out wandering in the cold.  
  
“It’s a life of duty and responsibility,” Alex answers. “My brothers are all knights as well. My father wanted it this way,” he says, and his tone goes sour when he speaks of his father. “And yet, I know that while I’m proud to serve our kingdom, I could never call it home. I learned that recently.”  
  
Michael’s brow is furrowed, his mouth is open, and he hears the little catch of breath he’s giving.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Because there aren’t seat warmers or wondrous trees or women like Isobel and Maria. While I come from a wonderful place, it doesn’t have you.” Alex reaches over to slide his fingers over Michael’s hand, staring at him from his seat. “I don’t know what force or power opened the portal that brought me to you, but I knew as soon as we met that I was brought here for you. You’ve been let down too many times by people, Michael. I don’t want to be another in that line.”  
  
_Then, don’t leave_, is the thought he can’t stop.  
  
“Are you saying you’re ready to be my boyfriend?” Michael hears himself say instead. “Because there’s some mixed signals going on here.”  
  
“When I return, I would be honored to bear the title.”  
  
It’s so simple and easy. Alex has made his decision. Michael wishes that he trusted this to know that Alex will be back soon, but who knows when he’ll return? Who knows what could happen when he goes back, but maybe what Michael needs right now is to trust both Alex and the universe. If this portal had opened to bring Alex to him, then maybe it will also bring him back – if it even exists, because there’s this awful voice in the back of Michael’s head demanding to know why he’s believing any of this bullshit.  
  
He slows the car when Alex gestures to the woods where he’d stumbled out from. The sun is setting, so there’s some daylight left, and Michael parks the car, grabbing his coat from the back.  
  
“What are you doing?” Alex asks with alarm.  
  
“I’m coming with you,” is Michael’s fierce protest. “I’m willing to let you go back to wherever it is you came from, but not without a proper goodbye.  
  
Alex doesn’t argue, which Michael is grateful for. He’s always so put-together and calm, but there are little hints like this that leaving is just as hard for Alex as it is for Michael, which is a relief if he’s being honest. The harder it is for Alex to leave, the more he’ll be willing to come back to him.  
  
That’s the logic Michael holds onto as he pulls his hat on, reaching out for Alex’s hand so that he can be led forward. Both their hands are in gloves, so Michael doesn’t get the touch he had the first time he’d found Alex out here, but it’s still better than nothing.  
  
“I know how difficult this is,” Alex tells him, “because it is for me. I’m going to be leaving my home forever,” he says, and it stings Michael to hear it put like that. He’s not sure that he’s worth abandoning your life for, but he’s being selfish, because he doesn’t try and dissuade Alex from doing it. “And yet, even for the short time we’ve known one another, the thought of leaving you is almost impossible.”  
  
“You have to,” Michael hears himself saying, sounding like a stranger’s voice. He’s spent the whole drive here preparing to get on his knees and beg for Alex to stay, but now he’s telling Alex to go?  
  
What the fuck is wrong with him?  
  
_You’re in love_, he hears the sensible part of his brain say. For the man he loves, he’d do anything at all, and this is the moment that it hits him that he’s in love with Alex in a way he’s never felt before. For that, he's willing to give him up.  
  
God, what a shitty thing to realize.  
  
“It’s here,” Alex says, coming to a stop and squeezing Michael’s hand tightly.  
  
Michael keeps a step behind him, seeing the strange white swirling in the midst of a copse of trees. He has to wonder if anyone else has found this or if any other knights are coming into the future to find love with unlucky teachers. Staring at it, it fills him with dread and he reaches out to nudge his fingers against Alex’s, which seems to be enough to get his attention.  
  
Alex slides their hands together and squeezes tightly, leaning in to press his forehead to Michael’s, matting down the curls.  
  
“I’m going to come back to you,” Alex makes his promise. “Michael, tell me you understand that.”  
  
“What if you can’t?” he asks, hating how burned he’s been and how much he doubts his promise.  
  
“I’m going to come back to you and find you,” Alex reiterates. “Tell me you’ll wait for me.”  
  
“Always,” Michael makes his promise and knows in his heart that he’ll wait as long as it takes. “Alex…” He wants to tell him. He wants to say the words, but at the same time it feels wrong. It feels like if he says them now, he’ll only be jinxing it. If he says it, what if Alex never comes back to him because it’s been a game to him all along?  
  
If he says it, what if Alex doesn’t say it back?  
  
Instead, he cups Alex’s cheeks and leans in to press a kiss to his forehead.  
  
“Come home to me and there’ll be a thousand more of those,” he promises, kissing his cheeks, his jaw, but never his lips. That’s what he wants to save. He wants those words and that kiss to happen when Alex is back with him _for good_.  
  
He knows that he needs to let go of him, but Alex letting go of his hands and stepping back still draws a pained sound from Michael’s chest. With one more step, he has to relinquish his hold on Michael’s hands, turning towards the portal. Michael stares at him, unwilling to look away from Alex, and watches as his knight in shining armor takes the few steps back towards the portal and away from Michael.  
  
Alex pauses at the cusp, turning to lock eyes with him.  
  
“Always,” he repeats Michael’s own words back to him, lifting a hand to say his goodbyes. With two more steps, he’s completely swathed in the light and every trace of him is gone, though the light and the portal remain.  
  
Michael reaches out for the nearest tree to steady himself so he doesn’t fall over, but between the howling wind in the woods, the silence, and the lack of Alex’s warmth beside him, it’s a near thing. He’s alone, again, and though every part of him says that he needs to stay right here and wait for Alex to return, he hasn’t brought food, hasn’t got shelter, and the weather is taking a turn for the worst.  
  
Before he goes, he does one last thing.  
  
With sticks, rocks, and any debris he could find, he’s left Alex a message for if he returns (he knows he should think about it as a ‘when’, but he’s been burnt one too many times before). With the last stone in place, Michael casts a glance over his shoulder to make sure his message is firmly in the snow and that when he leaves the clearing, it’s not the way he’d found it.  
  
It might be gone when Alex returns, either covered in snow or disturbed by the wildlife, but Michael has to hope that when he comes back, he’ll see the simple two-word message:  
  
_Come Home_.  
  
With that, he leaves the clearing alone, but not hopeless.  
  
It’s the first time in years, and he thinks he can bear some pain so long as he can hold onto this tiny sliver of _possibility_ that maybe this time, he’ll get a happy ending.  
  
*  
  
“Michael, honey, please eat something,” Maria pleads.  
  
He’s not hungry. It’s Christmas Eve and they’re having their usual feast, but Michael doesn’t have an appetite to speak of. He hasn’t since Alex left him. He’d gone with a promise to return, but it’s been days now and there’s been no sign of Alex.  
  
Even though he doesn’t want to, Michael’s starting to believe that it had all been a ruse. Maybe Alex had been playing him all along and he’s sitting somewhere in a bar with his douchebag friends laughing about the high school teacher that he’d managed to pull a fast one on.  
  
“No thanks,” he says dully, staring at the fireplace and tugging his blanket a little higher, tucked under his chin. It’s one of the blankets that Alex had been using and one that they haven’t washed yet, which means when he inhales deeply, he smells him. When he sees the concerned looks Isobel and Maria are giving him, he shakes his head to try and stop it. “It was too good to be true. He was too good,” Michael clarifies.  
  
“Michael,” Isobel says softly, reaching over to squeeze his knee gently.  
  
“It’s fine,” he admits, and is surprised that it actually isn’t as bad as he thought he’d feel. “You were right that I had to drop Noah, regardless of whether I had anyone else in my life. Even if Alex’s visit did nothing else, I have to appreciate it for that.” He’d made a promise to always wait for Alex and the unfortunate truth is that he thinks he still will.  
  
It’s only been days. If he were going to say goodbye to Isobel for the last time, wouldn’t he want more time? Yet, he also knows that every day that passes without Alex is a cruel reminder of how dull his life had been without him.  
  
“At least it’s snowing,” Isobel says gently. “You always loved a white Christmas,” she says, nudging Michael gently with her toes.  
  
Michael peers out the window, the smile slowly building. “Yeah,” he admits, and he knows that he does feel better knowing that it’s snowing. “It’s the best part of moving out here,” he says, and tugs the blanket a little tighter around himself. “That, and getting to be with both of you.”  
  
“Aw,” Maria gives him a teasing smile. “We knew you cared.”  
  
Michael opens his mouth to give as good as he’s getting, but he gets distracted when he sees a glint outside from the Christmas lights on the house reflecting against a shiny surface. He sits up slowly, pushing the blanket down so he can head to the window and try and make it out better.  
  
“Michael…?”  
  
He ignores Isobel, cupping his hands on the window, but the reflection from inside is causing too much glare. Michael bolts for the foyer, throwing open the front door and grabbing a pair of flip flops, even though his feet are going to freeze, rushing out to the front steps to find out if he’s losing his mind.  
  
It looks like Michael’s finally getting a Christmas miracle.  
  
Sword tucked at his side, wearing a chest plate of armor, and looking every bit as handsome as ever, Alex strides through the snow towards him. Michael feels his body struggle not to collapse with relief, but he pushes forward, ignoring the icy sting of snow on his bare toes. It doesn’t matter how cold he is or how blue his toes are going to be.  
  
He needs to be at Alex’s side.  
  
“I saw your message,” Alex tells him, as Michael keeps walking towards him, not stopping until he’s there with him, so close and able to see that he’s real. “I came home.”  
  
“You came home to me,” Michael breathes out reverently, hands sliding over Alex as he cups his cheek, his neck, squeezes his shoulder, touches his hands. He’s doing everything in his power to verify that he’s _real_ and that he’s here.  
  
Alex smiles at him. “Of course I did. The only place I want to be is with you.”  
  
Michael’s been waiting days for this moment, but now that it’s here, he feels gripped with a strange paralysis, like he isn’t sure what he wants to do first. He doesn’t stop touching Alex because he’s not sure that he could, but there’s one thing he’s been waiting on his return to do, and now that he’s here, he’s nervous he’s going to fuck it all up.  
  
“Michael,” Alex whispers.  
  
Michael closes his eyes, their foreheads pressed together. “Mmm?”  
  
“Your toes are exposed to the snow,” he tells him, as if Michael doesn’t already know. “Your sister and her wife are watching us from the window,” he continues, “but you promised me something and a man should always keep his promises.”  
  
Michael drifts back enough to see the twinkling Christmas lights from the house reflecting in Alex’s eyes, how his cheeks are pink with the cold, and how the snowflakes are dissolving into Alex’s hair. He’s the most beautiful thing that Michael’s ever seen and he’s all his, if he takes him.  
  
“I did make you a promise,” he agrees, and presses his fingers to the warmth of Alex’s neck, tangling with the hood of his knight’s tunic. He still isn’t sure how he’s been lucky enough to have a knight from the past come into his life and turn his love life upside down. Still, the excitement that Alex has managed to fill his life with has been unparalleled and unprecedented, but Michael never wants to give it up now that he’s had a taste of it.  
  
Alex is the one, Michael knows deep down, and he intends to spend the rest of his life with him.  
  
His freezing toes are the last thing on his mind as he cups Alex’s neck and slowly drifts in like he's magnetized by this man. When their lips meet, Michael forgets about the cold at all. It’s like he’s transported, and he lets out a needy whimper as he tangles his fingers into Alex’s hair to grab hold a little tighter to pull himself up and into his arms, clanging against the chest plate when he pushes in too close and he fumbles to get past it.  
  
That sound makes him ease back with a fond laugh, but he drifts back for another kiss, then another, like he’s trying to kiss Alex a thousand times right now.  
  
“We should get this off,” Michael suggests, rapping his knuckles on the plate.  
  
“I agree,” Alex says, voice low. “And we should get you some socks, before I’m required to warm them one by one.”  
  
Michael has more than a few ideas about _how_ Alex can do that, which makes it difficult to agree to socks, but Alex’s entreating look will be enough to do him in, he suspects.  
  
“Then let’s go inside,” he says, sliding their hands together. “Welcome home, Alex. I love you.”  
  
This is where Alex belongs and it’s exactly where Michael intends to keep him – now and forever with Michael, because if the universe has been kind enough to give him a true love for Christmas, then he’s going to make sure he gets to keep him and not let the fourteenth century have him back.  
  
Alex is here for Michael, and for once, Michael intends to make sure that he shows Alex that the universe _did_ mean for them to be together, and now that he’s here, Michael’s going to love him every day, every night, and all the moments in between.  
  
_Always_.


End file.
